A Delicate Balance
by Mockingjaybird
Summary: Draco and Hermione. Once enemies, now fragile creatures, getting used to each other in new light. There were days where they both struggled, fighting to keep themselves in check for the other. And even if they had managed to, they were still delicate, and they both knew it. Written for Lucy Kent's "THE FLOOR IS LAVA" competition.


**AN: Written for Lucy Kent's 'THE FLOOR IS LAVA' competition. Used the object China Cabinet which had the theme of delicate. I used the prompt 'alarm'. I do not own Harry Potter. Enjoy.**

...

Their entire relationship balanced on delicacy. They were fragile creatures, just getting used to one another in a new light, in the midst of all that had happened. After hating each other for most of their young lives, he found solace through her words and comfort in her lips, and she no longer judged him for all the horrible things he did to her before the War. They were working on everything.

Yet there were days where they both struggled.

She would stare blankly at the words carved into her forearm at least once a week, a constant reminder, she believed, of one of the darkest days leading up to the War. He would have to pull her from her rigid position at the foot of their bed, and guide her carefully into his arms, as he held her until she fell asleep. And in sleep, it was a different story, where she thrashed and screamed, reliving each and every painful memory to date. Those were the stressful nights, where he tried his hardest to calm her down and not have a meltdown of his own. When he finally managed to bring her back from the brink of nightmares, despite being scratched in his attempts, he held her when she cried, and even shed a few tears of his own.

For him, it was the rage that seemed to ignite out of nowhere, catching him off guard at the worst of times. The first time it had happened, he was in their kitchen, in the middle of grabbing a plate from the cabinet in which it was kept.

Rage hit him like a bullet, causing the plate to slip from his fingers and crash to the floor, sending alarm towards the girl in the next room. He swore loudly, fingers moving to grip the corner of a cabinet and the side of the sink. She found him, white knuckled, head hung down, shaking, clutching onto the pieces of furniture for dear life.

"A-are you alright?" she asked in a small voice, tentatively crossing over to his side.

"Yes," he hissed, not looking at her. "I'm fine." He was struggling to keep himself in check, beginning to breathe faster, terrified that he'd lose it.

"Are you having a break-"

"Just go away." He clenched his teeth tighter together, bit down on the inside of his cheek, drawing blood.

"Please, I can help you!" He mumbled something she didn't catch, and she crept closer to him, about to reach a hand out. "Please-"

_"Get away from me!"_ His hand flew from the furniture and towards her, and she shrieked, managing to raise her hands towards her face just in time, before his collided with her guarded limbs. The collision left her forearms pounding from his blow, but he hadn't done any real physical damage. When she finally lowered her arms, she stared wide-eyed at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. He had finally snapped out of it, his own eyes wide, his body slowly subsiding from its shaking. He had hurt her he realized, and their delicate connection was shattered for a moment. She fled towards the library, the only place she found peace in their entire home.

When she was gone, he stood dumbfounded, before he threw a tantrum, berating himself for causing her to cry. He cursed and kicked wildly at the kitchen island, stomping the once fragile, now broken pieces of glass into a fine powder. Tears streamed down his face, and he mashed the palms of his hands to his eyes to stop the flow.

After finally managing to calm down, he followed her trail, knocking cautiously on the thick oak door, waiting in bated breath. She would hate him now, leave him and then cause his delicate being to split into millions of pieces unable to be put back together.

When she didn't answer, he twisted the doorknob and found her crying in a corner. He stood, in his shocked and shaken state, stumbling over his words and apology, swearing to her that he'd never lay another hand on her ever again, and if he did, he'd kill himself.

He wasn't expecting her to fly from her spot, and nearly barrel him over, as she wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. Alarmed, for only a second, his own hands found their way, snaking across her back, and he repeated his words over and over into her hair, clutching to her like a lifeline.

In that moment, they realized something: they were delicate and they both knew it.

...

**AN: Reviews would be nice.**


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